


Soup To Nuts: Look Who's Cooking Now

by Huntress69



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: First Time, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-24
Updated: 2013-04-24
Packaged: 2017-12-09 08:16:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/772039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huntress69/pseuds/Huntress69
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A cooking lesson from Trip leads to a lesson in something else from Malcolm</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soup To Nuts: Look Who's Cooking Now

**Author's Note:**

> 1) I had to write this after (re)watching all four seasons of Enterprise in a row, (thank you DVDs!). And I hope I did all voices, personalities and accents justice.  
> 2) I have taken liberties as to why Malcolm is a Lieutenant.  
> 3) Gratuitous use of "Sir"  
> 4) This started out as a short PWP

**Disclaimer: No, I don't own them. Starfleet does. I personally would have no objections to being in decon with them.**

**************

"It's called a chicken wing, Malcolm," Trip snickered, tearing the meat from the bone with his teeth. "And If I were you, I'd give up trying to cut it with a fork and knife."

"Some of us weren't raised by wolves," Malcolm retorted, trying again, and failing, to cut the meat. " **I** have **proper** table manners."

"I'm happy to be a heathen," Travis grinned and grabbed another wing.

"This is the best snack idea," Hoshi was picking the last of the meat off a drumette. 

Trip ripped a piece of meat from a wing, chewing a bit, and purposely showed Malcolm the food in his mouth, acting like the total brat he could be off-duty.

"Don't make me order you to behave yourself, Commander," Jon snickered. "Any potato salad left?"

"Only what I put aside for Phlox." Trip finished the wing, licking the sauce from his lips. "He's in the middle of an experiment with his bat and the slimy whatchacallits."

"Infelian blood worms," Jon told him. "I pay attention to these things. And the bat's name is Fred."

"Only Phlox would name a bat," Trip laughed.

Malcolm finally gave up, albeit reluctantly, picked up a wing with his fingers and bit into it. He chewed for a moment, and then turned bright red. "HotHotHot...." He panted and grabbed his water, swallowing half the glass. "Are you trying to kill me?!"

"Ah, the wonders of buffalo sauce." Jon smacked his lips together, savoring the taste. "And Trip's Mom has the best recipe."

"My Mama thanks you," Trip preened, "as do a few generations of Liston's."

"Liston's?" Travis asked, wolfing down his ninth wing.

"Pa's a Tucker, Mom's a Liston." Trip reached for another wing, but Hoshi beat him to it. "If I'd known they'd go over this good, I'd have made more. Y'all are a bunch of pigs."

Travis snorted, which sent them all into a round of laughter, save for Malcolm, who abruptly stood up. 

"Well, thank you, Commander Tucker, and your family, both sides, for destroying my taste buds." Malcolm nodded to all of them. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have things to do."

"Whaddya have to do?" Trip teased. "Make yet another improvement to the phase cannons? They're already at 120 percent efficiency."

Malcolm briskly left the mess. 

"He needs a hobby," Travis piped up, "and one that doesn't involve explosives."

"I could teach him to cook," Trip grinned happily.

The Captain's face grew reticent. "You know, that's not a bad idea."

Trip's face fell. "What? No, Jon, I was only kidding, I swear."

"But it's a good idea." Jon stood up. "Thank you for the snack, Mister Tucker." 

"Wait!" Trip yelled. 

"Don't force me to make it an order, **Commander**." Jon turned on his heels and left with a smirk on his face and a spring in his step.

"Ah know that look," Trip grimaced, his accent coming to the fore, "I don't know why ah'm bein' punished."

"Because you're special?" Travis asked with a chuckle. 

"Fine!" Trip stood up, gritting his teeth. "He wants me to teach Malcolm to cook, I will!"

**~~~~~~~~**

"I will never forgive you for this, Commander." Malcolm was still angry at being ordered by the Captain to relax, and by relaxing Archer 'suggested' that he take cooking lessons from Trip. "There could be hostiles out there ready to attack and we will be totally unprepared."

Trip stared out the mess hall windows. "Yep, those lifeless asteroids may decide to open a can of whoop ass at any moment."

Malcolm focused on the largest. "One torpedo and I could blow that into a hundred pieces."

"Is that all you ever think of, explosions?"

"And if we are attacked," Malcolm continued, "do you really want to trust the safety of engineering to our new 20 year old Ensign?" He was smug. "The boy shrieked when he saw a cockroach."

"Look, Malcolm, this was **not** my idea, okay. Jon has a warped sense of humor."

"Warped is putting it mildly."

"Let's just get this over and done with." 

"All right." Malcolm sighed, staring around the galley. "What do we do first?"

"First we get all our ingredients together," Trip explained, "starting with the vegetables."

"Vegetables?" Malcolm asked, swallowing hard.

"Yeah, vegetables," Trip nodded, "or as we American's call them, veggies."

"Can't we begin with something that contains meat?"

"We're makin' vegetable soup, my Ma's special recipe," Trip waved the paper in front of Malcolm's face, "'cause it's so easy, even a tactical officer can do it."

"Are you insinuating that I am incapable of cooking?" Malcolm gritted his teeth. "Because I…."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, the British can do anything." Trip began to place vegetables on the counter. "Parsley, turnips, onions, carrots…."

In stereotypical British fashion, Malcolm's upper lip curled. "Yummy." 

"Just fill that pot with water," Trip pointed, "and start it boiling."

"I hope I can handle that job." Malcolm filled the pot to the brim, water sloshing onto the floor as he carried it to the heating pad.

"You're not supposed to fill it to the top." Trip took a ladle and began to remove some of the water. "You have to leave room for the veggies. Speakin' of which, make yourself useful and peel the carrots."

"Oh," Malcolm chuckled sarcastically, "how thrilling. I don't know if I'll be able to contain my excitement."

Trip finished emptying some water and went into the refrigerator for a few more things, and when he came out, he saw Malcolm putting vegetables in the pot.

"Ya don't put the damn things in until the water is boilin'!" He screamed. "You can hit targets blindfolded with a phase-pistol, but ya can't read a stupid recipe!"

"Well maybe if it were written in **proper** English, I wouldn't have had a problem!" Malcolm shot back, throwing an onion at Trip, who ducked.

"Proper English? I'll have you know, Lieutenant _'Pomp and Circumstance'_ , my Mama writes perfect English." Trip was clearly insulted. "You," he poked Malcolm in the shoulder, "just don't know how to read it!"

"You poked me." Malcolm was clearly affronted. 

"Yeah, I did." Trip glared down at him; no, the height difference wasn't much, only two inches or so, but Trip was purposely goading him. "What are you gonna do about it…" Trip poked him again, "…shorty?" 

"Shorty?" Malcolm's voice held a dangerous edge and Trip took a step back.

Trip shut off the heating pad, "Uh, it's just a nickname…" quickly calculated how far it was to the doorway, "…for munchkins," and fled the galley, hearing Malcolm's footsteps behind him. He was thankful the turbolift was close and that he had a head start. He got off at his level and peered into the corridor as if Malcolm was going to magically appear. Still, he didn't take any chances and continued to sprint to his room. On the way he nearly ran over two crewmen, ducked down to avoid smashing into a MACO who was a head taller and finally made it. 

Trip closed the door behind himself and locked it, grinning like a loon. Oh yeah, he just loved to get under Malcolm's skin; it had become an occasional hobby for him. "Nah," he laughed to himself, "an obsession." He took off his uniform and debated on a shower, opted for one in the morning, pulled on a pair of sweatpants and shivered. He'd left the air on low and the room was like ice. He was about to adjust the temperature when he heard his door 'woosh' open.

"You can't lock out the head of security," Malcolm stated. "I have all the override codes."

"Look, Malcolm," Trip smiled, putting up his palms in a peaceful gesture, wanting to smooth things over, "I didn't mean to tease ya, so let's just call a truce."

Malcolm just stood there for a moment, staring at Trip, his eyes giving Trip the once-over twice. All the missions together and he'd never noticed how handsome Commander Trip Tucker was. 

The blond hair cut in a boyish, yet sexy, fashion; the upper torso, lean and muscled and tanned...(And just when did Trip find time for a tan? Better still, how far down did the tan go?). And the eyes, the blue eyes that reminded Malcolm of warm and sunny days on Earth. Trip Tucker epitomized the 'All-American Boy Next Door' look; he was what they called 'Mom and Apple Pie' - and it turned Malcolm Reed on like a Christmas tree.

How could Malcolm not have noticed any of that in all this time, and with all the adventures, they'd experienced?

In the shuttle pod, near death, comforting each other, he didn't catch a clue.

On Risa, half naked and tied up, he didn't realize it.

Crawling through the shafts on the alien repair station, it had never hit him.

All the times in decon, clad only in boxers, wiping that disgusting gel over each other's bodies and now, **now** , the light bulb had to go off over his head - hell, he was whacked upside it with a spanner.

Malcolm Reed wanted Trip Tucker and for five years he'd been too dense to notice him as anything other than a fellow officer. "God, you're slow," he muttered to himself.

Trip heard him and misunderstood. "Look, Malcolm, if yer goin' to kill me, make it quick and not slow, okay?" 

"I want to do something," Malcolm said softly, "and I need you to stay still."

"O-kay," Trip replied, "as long as you're not going to hurt me." He winced at thoughts of their last sparring session; it had taken his right arm three days to heal.

Malcolm walked behind him and stood there, placing a hand on Trip's right shoulder, one finger trailing across his neck to the left. 

Trip remained still, but snuck a glance down to his crotch. Oh yeah, it wasn't his imagination - he was getting hard.

Malcolm noticed and smoothed his hand down Trip's bare back. "Yes, Charles, I think you'll do just fine."

"Call me Trip," Trip drawled, feeling a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead - 10 minutes before he'd been chilled to the bone, but now, with Malcolm....

Malcolm circled around and stood before him again. "On your knees, Charles," he ordered, in a version of his accent Trip had never heard.

Not only was Trip totally turned on by Malcolm calling him by his given name, he also found that version of accent utterly sensual - any refusal he was going to give got lost between the sex-deprived section of his brain and his vocal cords. All he could get out was a very confused, "Huh?" 

" **On your knees** ," Malcolm repeated, more firmly than the first time. 

Trip complied, feeling a bit nervous, wondering if this wasn't one of his more stupid ideas. 'I ain't lickin' his boots,' he thought, 'or moppin' the floor with my tongue.' He grew a bit confused as Malcolm backed up, leaning against the wall. 

"Come here, Charles."

That same sexy tone (and just when did Malcolm Reed and sexy go together in the same sentence?) and Trip was bewildered. What did Malcolm want from him? 

"Crawl to me."

'Crawl?' Trip thought, not moving yet. 'He wants humiliation; figures. But I still ain't lickin' his boots.' He slowly crawled forward on his hands and knees, finally kneeling in front of Malcolm. As Trip slowly swept his eyes up Malcolm's body, his cock jumped to attention, ready to rip a hole in his sweatpants. His mouth dropped open as Malcolm lifted each leg to pull off his boots. He inhaled sharply as Malcolm unzipped his uniform. He forgot to exhale as the top of the jumper was peeled off. His eyes followed Malcolm's uniform as it seemed to glide down his body, puddling between his knees and his ankles. Trip was even more confused now - he didn't like men, he had never even been aroused by the sight of one. Why now? Why....?

Why could he not take his eyes from Malcolm's crotch? Why was his right hand (the traitor!) reaching up to caress the bulge in Malcolm's boxers? Why didn't he stop it when Malcolm's hand came down upon his, guiding it up and down, back and forth? 

And why did it take Trip Tucker so long to figure out **he** was the one who was softly moaning? Or that his eyes had closed? Or, better still, that somehow his fingers were now touching bare flesh, that Malcolm had dropped his boxers and stepped out of them? His tongue unconsciously moistened his lips and he forgot how to breathe again as a hand threaded through his hair, almost petting him. Trip didn't fight as his mouth was pulled forward, the thick head of Malcolm's cock resting against his lips. He opened his mouth to take the tip in and didn't expect any more. Malcolm's other hand wound in his hair, sliding the length inside, but Trip didn't do anything; he just let it happen. 

Malcolm slid further inside, watching his cock disappear within Trip's mouth, fighting off the urge to take full control, shove his cock down Trip's throat and fuck his mouth. He wanted to drag this out as long as possible. He wasn't paying complete attention and totally missed the gasps for air.

Trip pulled back, jerking his head from Malcolm's grasp. "Are you tryin' to choke me?!"

"I take it you're not too fond of oral sex, or as you crass American's refer to it, _blow jobs_." The pink tinge on Trip's face gave Malcolm pause. "You have done this before, haven't you?" Red. "You haven't." Crimson. "Did you think this would be fun?" Malcolm's expression was a cross between anger and hurt. "An experimentation on your part?"

"No, Mal, I swear."

"Don't call me 'Mal'." Malcolm shook his head in disdain and quickly pulled his uniform back up. "It's Lieutenant Reed to you... **sir**." He turned his back on Trip and picked up his boots.

"I'm not experimentin'...sir."

The armory officer paused and allowed a slow smile to cross his face, but when he turned, it was gone. "Then explain to me, Mister Tucker, just exactly what it was you **were** doing."

It took Trip Tucker all of five seconds to see right through Malcolm Reed; the engineer may have been a stranger to male sex, but he was no stranger to sex games. He only hoped he were reading things right or he was going to be in a shitload of trouble. Staring at the floor, he kept his voice low and was also careful to keep his accent in check. "I was afraid to tell you the truth; afraid you would leave."

"I'll stay, but only if you follow my orders to the letter and don't question them."

"I will, Malcolm."

"What was that?" Malcolm's lips formed a thin line. 

Trip understood the rules of the game. "I will...sir."

Malcolm walked to him, staring down. "If we start this, we finish it; there is no turning back."

"I know, sir." The uncertainty though, was clear in his eyes.

"Do you understand what I'm asking of you, Charles?" Malcolm grasped Trip's chin and stared deep into his eyes, finally receiving a nod. "Say it; I need to hear you agree."

"I...." Trip inhaled sharply. "I understand, sir." In truth a part of him didn't - sex games were one thing, but was Malcolm into harder stuff? No way was Trip even remotely into S&M.

"I'm not either - at least nothing hardcore." Malcolm actually smirked and caressed Trip's cheek. "Your inner monologue verbalized itself."

Trip wondered, silently this time, how far he would let the game go; how far he would let **Malcolm** go. He leaned into Malcolm's touch, almost purring - oh yeah, Trip would let Malcolm do what he wanted. No surprise there. Contrary to the reputation he had gotten as 'Enterprise's resident slut,' (and one day he was going to prove that the **not** so innocent Hoshi Sato had started that nickname) Trip had been best friends with his right hand for almost a year. There had been nobody since T'Pol and he so needed to be wanted, to be touched, to love and be loved...and fuck, did he just associate, however remotely, the word 'love' with Malcolm? 

HOLY SHIT! 

Charles 'Trip' Tucker the Third was in love with the Enterprise's armory officer! He nearly blurted it out, but managed to keep his mouth shut. Now was not the time to declare himself; he would know when the time was right. So instead he became intent and focused on playing the game. If it became too much, Malcolm would stop, Trip knew he would. And now all Trip had to do was figure out what he should do. Sex games yeah, with women, but how do you play with a man? He decided to do unto Malcolm what had been done unto him. Trip leaned in and rested his cheek against Malcolm's crotch, reached up and grasped the zipper of Malcolm's uniform, pulling it down.

Malcolm allowed his uniform to fall, stepping out of it once again. He tossed his tee-shirt aside, standing there in his boxers. "Take them off, Charles."

"Yes sir." Trip reached out but his hand was batted aside.

"With your teeth."

Trip nearly made a smarmy remark, but one glance at Malcolm's face and he decided against it. 

"You're learning, Charles." Malcolm was petting Trip's hair again, urging his mouth forward. "Flippant remarks will get you nothing."

"How did you know I was gonna say...." Trip stopped speaking and met Malcolm's eyes again. "Yes sir; I understand." The hands fell from his hair and Trip watched as Malcolm held them behind his back. Leaning in, he rubbed his cheek against Malcolm's crotch, inhaling the scent. Grasping the edge of the waistband between his teeth, he slowly brought them down, his eyes following them to the floor. Glancing back up, Trip was greeted with Malcolm's cock and he hesitated for a moment wondering if he could do this. He felt the hands in his hair again, (and damn, could his cock get any harder?) and placed a kiss to the tip. He slid his tongue out and swirled it around the tip, before bringing the head into his mouth. His eyes shot upwards to meet Malcolm's, wondering what his new lover was going to do.

"I'm not going to force you," Malcolm whispered, his eyes narrowed to seductive slits, "unless you want me to."

Before he realized it, Trip was nodding; he knew Malcolm wouldn't actually **force** him, but a little encouragement never hurt.

Malcolm slowly brought Trip's mouth down, his left hand wound in the strands of Trip's hair, his right hand petting, almost caressing. "You American's have another phrase - _cocksucker lips_. That's what you have, Charles, a mouth made just for this, just for me."

Trip wondered how long he could hold out; the usually staunch Brit talking dirty was turning him on beyond belief. He moved his head forward on his own, taking Malcolm halfway before he drew his head back for air. He licked his lips, almost savoring the taste of pure Malcolm, and took the length in his fist, using slow and steady jerks to arouse - it worked for him when he jerked off, so he figured it would be good for Malcolm also. Focusing on the tip, he saw the first drops of pre-come and leaned in, swiping his tongue over it, moaning to himself. He didn't need any help from Malcolm this time as his mouth descended the length on its own, breathing through his nose, relaxing his throat, taking Malcolm all the way down.

This time it was Malcolm who softly moaned as Trip experimented with his tongue along the length. 

Trip was aware of the effect his first try at a blow job was having on Malcolm, so he thought about what got him off when women went down on him. He moaned around Malcolm's hardness and sucked harder, feeling the fingers in his hair grasp tighter - oh yeah, Trip was going to make Malcolm come. 

Malcolm, however, wanted his dick elsewhere when he came. "Come for me, Charles," he ordered in that sensual tone that was turning Trip on.

Trip soaked the front of his sweatpants, eyes clouding over in a haze - he had never come without being touched before. Malcolm was pulling away and Trip moved forward; he wanted more.

Malcolm yanked the mattress off the bunk and laid it on the floor. He sat down, back against the wall, legs spread. He didn't need to say a word to Trip, who began to crawl forward, settling between his legs. Framing Trip's face in his palms, Malcolm drew him in for a truly passionate kiss, his tongue making itself at home in Trip's mouth. As the kiss grew even deeper Malcolm had to concentrate on not coming himself - he was going to be buried in Trip's ass when he came. Sliding out from his position, Malcolm knelt behind Trip and pulled his sweatpants off. He placed his hands on Trip's asscheeks, kneading the tight muscles.

"Oh God...." Trip moaned, his cock swelling anew. That amazed him on its own; it had never happened this fast before. He usually needed a good 15-20 minutes to go a second time...plus lots and lots of encouragement. But the thought that Malcolm was going to....the engineer wasn't ignorant and knew they were missing one important element. "I don't have any lube, Mal." He wasn't prepared for the hard smack across his ass. "Fuck, Malcolm!" The next one was harder - Trip got the idea. "I don't have any lube...sir."

Malcolm did a quick scan of the room. "Don't move." He went to the bathroom and returned with a bottle of conditioner. "I hate having to use this, it's far from proper, but it's better than nothing." He stopped speaking as he saw Trip on his knees, slowly jerking himself off. Another smack, this one leaving a handprint. "Don't touch - that's mine."

"Yes sir." Trip felt a slick finger pressing against his hole and moved forward on instinct; the palm smacking against his right ass cheek stilled him. When the lone finger moved inside, Trip gasped from the intrusion but didn't pull away. He was growing used to it when Malcolm slid two inside; his breath caught in his throat. When Malcolm returned with three and shoved them deep, Trip moved forward again - there was a bit of pain. "I don't want another smack, but...Malcolm...I've never done this, and I know it's gonna hurt."

Trip sounded frightened, and that was the last thing Malcolm wanted. He caressed Trip's back, slow and steady strokes, trying to calm him. "I will never hurt you, I promise." He felt the blond tensing and leaned down, his voice a soft whisper. "But I do need you to trust me, Charles, and I will stop if you truly want me to."

"I don't know what I want," Trip answered honestly.

"You want me to give you pleasure," Malcolm crooned, resting his head against Trip's back, "but I can't do that if you're going to fight me." 

"I'll do my best, sir." Trip forced his body to relax, sighing as fingertips moved with a soft caress down his back, resting upon his ass, easing him apart.

"How badly do you want me?" Malcolm asked, his voice deeper than the norm, almost husky, and totally sensuous.

"So very badly." Trip evened his breathing, focusing on Malcolm's touch. 

Malcolm used the liquid to slick his cock - and God, the vision of Trip before him, ready to give himself to Malcolm - he could come from the sight alone. He pretty much had to order his cock to 'cease and desist' any thoughts of coming just yet. He slid two fingers in; Trip was open to him, ready for him. And Malcolm was oh so ready for Trip Tucker. "It's been a long while since I defiled a virgin," he half-laughed, testing Trip's reaction by easing a third finger inside.

"It's been a long time since I **was** a virgin." Trip slid back against the fingers, but this time it wasn't enough for him. He was sweating, he was rock hard again and he so needed to come. "I need you inside me." He'd given up on the game. "Malcolm, please...want you...." 

Malcolm said nothing, but his breathing deepened at Trip's needy tone. He grasped the taut cheeks and pulled them wide, his cock self-guiding, right into Trip. He didn't pause as he entered, sliding in smoothly, his balls resting upon Trip's ass. Malcolm heard the groan and it was not a sound of pleasure. He began to rub Trip's back again. "Just feel me, Trip."

The initial sting was fading and Trip allowed all his fears and inhibitions to melt away. He was moving on instinct and shifted forward, shoving back, impaling himself. Yes, there was more pain in that one movement, but nothing he couldn't handle. "So good, Mal, so damn good." He felt Malcolm's arms sliding around his waist, pulling him upwards; Malcolm was moving into a sitting position. He winced at the change in position, of sitting upon Malcolm's cock, but once again took deep breaths and relaxed himself. "Gimme a sec."

"Are you all right?" Malcolm was a bit concerned. 

"I'm good, sir," Trip smiled, "I'm better than good."

Malcolm lifted Trip up a bit and sat him back down, and God, the friction nearly made him come. "So nice, Trip...oh yes...."

"Malcolm...." Trip lifted himself up and slid back down, slow and easy. He squeezed his ass muscles on one slide down, hearing a soft moan, which spurred him on to pick up the pace. 

It didn't take long for the two to develop a rhythm.

Trip raised up, Malcolm pulled back; Trip moved down, Malcolm shoved in. 

Trip reached up and around, arm on Malcolm's neck, his head falling backwards, eyes closed, moaning, "Malcolm, kiss me...touch me...please...."

Malcolm had no problem with that, his lips finding Trip's, moaning "Oh God, Trip," and stealing the air from his lungs, his fist wrapped around Trip's dick, jerking hard and fast, the same rhythm they were making love to. 

Trip broke the kiss for air, taking deep breaths. He rode Malcolm's dick harder, slick sheens of sweat dripping down his brow. Trip wanted more, much more - he was on fire. "I'm gonna...Malcolm...oh fuck....ahhhh...." Trip shot his load all over Malcolm's hand and all over the sheet.

Malcolm came with a sigh, but he continued to pound into Trip, not slowing until he was drained dry. He slid Trip forward, watching him collapse on his stomach, gasping for air. Catching his own breath, Malcolm went to the bathroom, cleaned himself up and returned with a warm cloth. 

Trip wiped himself clean and the two put the mattress back. Trip changed the sheets, and he was about to turn around and give Malcolm a full-blown grin, and a kiss, and declare himself. But Malcolm spoke first.

"This was most enlightening, Charles, and I thank you immensely." Malcolm sorted through the clothing. "You're an apt pupil."

"Th-thank you, sir," Trip murmured, hearing the rustle of clothing, not wanting to turn around, knowing that Malcolm was getting dressed and leaving. 'Don't let him go,' Trip thought to himself as he turned to watch Malcolm. 'Say something...anything.' But he just stood there, not speaking. 'Go on, Trip, don't wuss out now.'

Malcolm put on his boxers and tee-shirt and was about to put his uniform on when he found himself with an armful of engineer sliding his finger's under his tee. 

Trip brushed his lips over Malcolm's and whispered, "I love you."

Malcolm pulled away as if he'd been burned. "Don't say that."

"Why not?" Trip was confused. "It's what I feel."

"Those three words are said in the heat of passion so many times, but when the dawn comes, they're forgotten." Malcolm shook his head as he pulled his uniform up, nearly stumbling in the process. "I can't cope with that, not here, not now." He put his right boot on. "I have...I have nowhere to flee when you decide you want someone else. Sex is fine, but love, that's a totally different story." He pulled the left one on and was prepared to leave.

Trip wrapped his arms around Malcolm's waist, thankful that it was allowed; he was well aware that Malcolm could beat him to a pulp. "Who hurt you, Malcolm? 'Cause I think somebody did, and they hurt ya real bad." Trip turned him so they were facing, but Malcolm refused to meet his eyes.

"You give your heart, your soul, your very being to someone, you allow the relationship to move beyond the physical, and then one day, it's gone." Malcolm bit his lip. "You find that you're left with nothing and you cope with it." His tone was almost venomous. "But then it happens one time too many, and it morphs into raw pain, and that is something that I can no longer endure."

"And how do I know you won't grind **my** heart to dust? How do I know **you** won't leave **me** for someone else?" 

Malcolm didn't answer him.

Trip was incredulous - he'd been under the impression that Malcolm had made love to him because he loved Trip, not just for the sex. Yet here he was baring his feelings to Malcolm and they weren't returned. "Malcolm, this is a two-way street here. And I'm thinking what's got you so upset is that you love me too, 'cept you're too damn stubborn and/or thickheaded to admit it."

Malcolm shoved him back again. "No, I'm sorry, but I don't." He quickly left.

The door closed and Trip leaned against it. "You're a big boy, Trip Tucker," he said to himself, "and Malcolm Reed is way out of your league for a lover or boyfriend...significant other...whatever." He returned to his bed and lay down, shutting his eyes tightly. "It's not gonna happen, so suck it up and deal." He silently hoped that he would be without dreams tonight, for without them he could banish the fantasy that Malcolm Reed truly cared for him. 

Unfortunately his mind was working on overtime and his eyes opened as it suddenly dawned on him that Malcolm had called him 'Trip' a few times while they'd made love; not 'Charles' but 'Trip'. And Malcolm hadn't even noticed...and neither had Trip himself at the time. "You do love me, Malcolm Reed." he closed his eyes again, "but why won't you admit it?"

**~~~~~~~~**

Malcolm stomped down the corridor and entered the turbolift. The moment the doors closed he stopped it and banged his head against the wall a few times. "No, he is not getting under your skin." He nodded to himself. "It was just fun and games...comfort sex." Malcolm took a few deep breaths, centering himself before he stepped out and headed to his quarters. He appeared stoic as he passed two of his security staff, but the moment he entered his quarters he stood there and stared out the window. "Keep saying it, Malcolm, and perhaps you'll eventually believe it." 

He got undressed and lay down, palming his cock through his boxers, finding himself hard again. Slipping them down his legs, Malcolm took his cock in his fist and pumped it, slow and easy, wanting to draw the feeling out. His eyes slid shut and he had visions of Trip, of Trip's smile, his laugh ...Trip's dick, Trip's ass...his....

Malcolm had an orgasm, softly moaning "Trip...." as he shot his load all over his hand. It took him a good five minutes to gather his wits and go to the bathroom and wash up. He was all done and was about to return to bed when he caught his reflection in the mirror. "You went and did it again, didn't you, Malcolm. You swore you'd never let it happen again **ever** ; you put up defenses, built up walls, prepared to keep anyone out." He went back to bed and slid under the sheet. "Why didn't you just tell him how you felt? Because you're a bloody imbecile, that's why." He punched the wall. "You can't even say the words, can you? Because admitting that you loved him...telling him to his face...you'd have to tell him the truth about why you refused to love anyone again." Malcolm closed his eyes, and as he finally drifted off to sleep, all he could think was, 'Which would lead to your explaining the facts as to why you're still a Lieutenant.' 

**~~~~~~~~**

Trip entered the Captain's ready room for breakfast looking morose and was silent as he sat across from Jon, staring at his plate.

"I know that look." Jon took a bite from his muffin, tilting his head to study his best friend. "The sex was good but she returned to her quarters after?"

"No and yes." Trip pushed his eggs around on his plate. 

"Which is which?"

"Yes, I went to sleep alone, but no, the sex wasn't good; it was great...excellent, stupendous." Trip paused, considering his words. "Jon, it was fucking Earth-shattering."

"Trip, after what happened between you and T'Pol, I'm surprised that you'd even consider sleeping with another woman aboard this ship." Jon shook his head, remembering the pain Trip had gone through, so thankful that the two had mended fences and grown beyond their failed attempt at a relationship. "I know you and T'Pol kept your friendship intact, but the next woman...."

"IT WAS MALCOLM!" Trip shouted, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself. He stole a glance at Jon, wondering how his admission would go over. 

The Captain scooped some eggs onto his fork, nonchalantly ate them, drank some coffee and picked up another muffin. "The orange-cranberry is delicious. I think Chef outdid himself this time."

Trip gaped at him. "Did you hear what I said, Jon? I spent the evening with Malcolm. Malcolm Reed, your tactical officer; your **very male** tactical officer."

"I actually think you make a nice couple." Jon nodded to himself. "Yeah, definitely." He tossed Porthos a strip of bacon. "What do you think, puppy?"

"ARF!" The beagle almost appeared to be smiling himself.

"Porthos approves," Jon grinned, "and so do I." He paused. "I mean, not that you would need my approval; if you're happy, I'm happy." He shrugged and passed Trip a muffin. "It's blueberry."

"I **love** Malcolm," Trip flat-out stated. "What do ya think of that?"

"I can marry the two of you if you like." Jon was casual as he refilled their coffee mugs. "Captain's prerogative."

"I ain't even told my Mama." Trip rubbed the back of his neck. "How do you think she'll take it?"

"If there's one thing I know about your mother, it's that she's open minded, not to mention off-the-wall, and that goes double for your father." 

"Yeah, I know, but...."

"Trip, you love him, he loves you...."

"He says he don't," Trip actually pouted and dropped his fork, staring at his plate. "Ah know he's lyin' to me, but ah don't know why!" He stood up and began to pace the small room, running his fingers through his hair in clear frustration.

"I can always tell when you're upset," Jon laughed, "because your accent thickens, comes out full force and you sound like _Huck Finn_ on a bender. And also, I would think that as best friends, you would have told me you were bisexual."

"I didn't know myself until last night!" Trip shouted, taking a few calming breaths. "Ah lost my heart to a **man**." He stilled, glaring at Jon. "And why aren't you the slightest bit put off by that?"

"Because, as I said before, you are happy. And you didn't lose anything to a man."

"No?" Trip chuckled. "Then who did I lose my heart to?"

"You lost it to **Malcolm** ," Jon clarified with a smile. "Think about it."

Trip sighed and sat back down, staring at his plate and picking at his muffin. "Before last night, I'd never even thought about a man....about Malcolm...that way." He looked all of 12 years old as he propped his right elbow on the table and rested his face in his palm. "Well, except for this one time we had a day off and we were going to meet for a movie. I walked into the armory and caught sight of him in jeans and a sweaty tee-shirt, his head buried in the tail end of a torpedo, his arms flexing as he worked on it," Trip bit on his lower lip, "his ass in the air, looking so sexy in his pants. My heart skipped a beat, I'm sure of it." 

"And that was when?" Jon prompted.

"I dunno, maybe..." Trip was thinking, "...a few days before the shuttle pod." He didn't need to elaborate - nearly dying in the vacuum of space had given him nightmares for days; Malcolm nearly dying in his arms had extended those nightmares for a few weeks.

"Trip," Jon's mouth dropped open, "that was almost five years ago."

Trip's face had the oddest look as the time frame dawned on him. 

"You're having an epiphany and a major one at that." 

"I've loved him for five years," Trip murmured. "I've wasted five years of my life with other people when I could have had Malcolm...really had him."

"You're not dead yet," Jon cracked. "And I think you need a day off. In fact, I'm going to order Malcolm to do the same."

"Just don't order us back into the kitchen, Captain Archer." Trip stood, a small smile on his face. "Thanks, Jon," he nodded, "thanks for being my friend."

"I get to tell your Mom and Dad."

"Go ahead," Trip agreed. The door slid open revealing T'Pol with a PADD. As the door closed behind her, Trip blurted, "I love Malcolm," then waited for her reaction. Yes, they had parted ways amicably and were respected colleagues, but still, their relationship had once bordered on the serious.

"It is about time you figured that out, Commander Tucker," she said dryly. "I was already aware of it."

"Oh yeah? And just how did you figure it out?" Trip challenged.

"The last night we spent together." She raised an eyebrow. "You moaned Lieutenant Reed's name when you achieved your orgasm." T'Pol walked past him and handed the Captain the PADD. "If I were human, it would have damaged my ego considerably."

The staid Captain covered his mouth to hide his sudden giggle fit.

"No way I said that!" Trip insisted.

"No, you did not say it..." T'Pol paused, nodding her head in agreement.

"Ya see!" Trip gloated.

The Vulcan narrowed her eyes and finished her sentence. "...you moaned it." She smiled calmly (Jon would later swear she smirked) and murmured, "'Yes, Malcolm, yes'," purposely inflecting a passionate moan and doing her Vulcan best to keep her composure. 

The Captain couldn't hold it in - he let loose with a loud howl of laughter.

At the sound of the raucous laughter, Major Hayes, who had been on the bridge waiting to speak with the Captain, burst into the room with his gun drawn. The tough-as-nails MACO caught T'Pol's words and turned a bright shade of pink, his mouth agape. "Did I, er, miss something?"

"Y'all can find this as humorous as you like." Trip was grinding his teeth. "I'm goin' to engineering where I can get some respect!" He nodded his head like a little kid and stormed from the room, across the bridge and into the turbolift.

Hayes stood there, looking from T'Pol to Archer, gave a small laugh, reholstered his weapon and held out a PADD. "I don't want to know," he nodded, placed the PADD on the table and left quickly.

"You're a cruel woman," Jon laughed again. 

"Cruelty would be the result of an emotional response," she said flatly. "I am Vulcan, therefore you are in error."

"Sure, T'Pol," he nodded and glanced over the schedule, "you keep telling yourself that."

She sat down opposite him. "Can we discuss the new shift schedules for the month?"

"Looks fine." The Captain suddenly frowned. "I have one small change." He rearranged a few things. "Trip and Malcolm were on different shifts next month; now they're on the same."

**~~~~~~~~**

Trip exited the turbolift and found himself on D-Deck - the armory. He made a mental note to check the lifts, because he knew he had set it for F-Deck and engineering. He turned around to get back in when he heard Malcolm's voice.

"Something I can do for you, Commander?"

Trip nearly said no, but as he turned around what flew out of his mouth was, "Yeah, there is. You can come to my quarters after your shift and we can discuss last night."

"There's nothing to discuss," Malcolm said in his standard clipped British tone, turning around to leave.

Trip grabbed his arm and turned him back. "It's okay that you say you don't love me," he said aloud, silently adding, 'even though I know you do.' He paused before continuing. "I can deal with that, but what happened between us...damn, Malcolm," he swallowed hard, "I want it again."

Malcolm pulled his arm away and walked back to the armory. "Perhaps," he called over his shoulder.

"I'll take that as a yes," Trip grinned. He turned around and walked into the wall. 

"Are you all right, Commander?" Major Hayes asked him.

"I meant to do that," Trip replied, shaking his head to clear it.

Hayes looked towards the armory and back at Trip and a broad grin came across his face.

Trip narrowed his eyes. "The bathrooms on this level are atrocious."

"Really, sir?" Hayes was confused.

"Yes," Trip nodded. "So why don't you go and clean the grout off the tiles...with a toothbrush."

"Sir?"

"You heard me, **Major** ," Trip was gritting his teeth. 

" **Me** , sir?" Hayes' voice squeaked.

"MOVE IT!"

"YES SIR!" 

Trip looked quite smug. "Some days it's nice to be the Commander."

**~~~~~~~~**

Malcolm returned to his office and sat at his desk, looking over a PADD. It was only after he realized he'd read the same paragraph four times that he finally put it down. "He's already gotten into your heart," he murmured to himself. "Damn it, Malcolm, what the hell are you going to do about this?"

**~~~~~~~~**

Trip ended his shift, ate dinner quickly and rushed to his quarters. He showered and shaved, and even found a clean pair of boxers amidst the piles of clothing tossed around his quarters. And then he sat down to wait, expecting Malcolm at any moment - they were both on the same shift. He was fantasizing about what Malcolm would do to him and before he knew it his hand was in his boxers slowly jerking himself off. He pulled his hand away, shaking his head. "Nope. You're waiting for Malcolm." 

Two hours, 3 crosswords, 4 Bugs Bunny cartoons, 2 Corona's and a bag of Doritos later he was still waiting. Exhaustion finally took over and he slid under the sheet, resigning himself to the fact that he had been wrong, that Malcolm didn't care for him at all, that it **had** been nothing more than sex. He had just shut his eyes when he heard the door to his quarters open and cracked his eyes open, seeing Malcolm with his uniform on a hanger, although the man himself was now in jeans and a tee-shirt. "You came."

"Not yet," Malcolm murmured as he hung his uniform and walked into the bathroom. He came out with a small smirk. "Much as I would be happy to...swap spit with you...I refuse to share your toothbrush; plus I needed a clean uniform."

Trip just stared at him, mouth opening and closing, as if he wanted to say something, but couldn't find the right words.

"You do want me to stay, don't you, Trip?" Malcolm gave him a genuine smile as he kicked off his sneakers. 

"You called me Trip." He sat up and swung his legs over the bunk, sitting there and smiling.

"It's your name, isn't it?" Malcolm knelt beside the bed, sliding a hand up Trip's leg and under his briefs, his touch a soft caress that made Trip's breath hitch. "Unless you prefer Charles."

"N-no, sir," Trip stammered, already half hard. "Trip's fine."

"Trip, there is no game now, so you can drop the _sir_." Malcolm had an intent look upon his face. "And you didn't answer me - do you want me to stay with you?"

"Bed's kinda small," Trip shrugged, waving his arm out. 

"We'll see." Malcolm slowly peeled his shirt off, dropping it on the floor, clearly smirking this time as Trip's eyes followed it. He unbuttoned his pants and took them off, standing there in a pair of boxer-briefs. Oh yeah, judging by Trip's reaction (his mouth agape, his eyes wide as saucers, his cock swelling) those were most definitely the right choice.

"Uh, interesting underwear," Trip murmured.

"I'm so glad you approve." Malcolm sat down on the bunk, shoved Trip over, slid in beside him, turned them on their sides, and wrapped his arm around Trip's body. "I think it's a perfect size."

Trip interlaced his fingers with Malcolm's, holding them tight. "I'll get better at followin' yer orders, sir, I swear I will."

Malcolm urged him over so they were facing. "I think...let's move this elsewhere, shall we?" He got out of bed and motioned Trip up, the two moving the mattress onto the floor. "I don't fancy a concussion," he cracked, nodding to the top of the bunk. Malcolm pulled Trip down beside him, laying him flat on his back. "I'm all for equal opportunity in bed." His hands strayed down, removed Trip's boxers and groped his erection. "I can't wait to wrap my lips around this." He moved his body over Trip's and tongued his ear, blowing hot puffs of air. "I am going to destroy every bit of grey matter in that pretty little head of yours."

"Now who sounds crass?" Trip snickered. 

"Ah, but you enjoyed it when I spoke filthy." Malcolm began to stroke him slowly. "Didn't you?" Trip began to thrust into his fist. "Maybe I should do it now, suck your brains out through that thick and hard cock, and turn you into a witless moron."

"Please, sir, please do it," Trip moaned, blindly reaching for a kiss, which he received. "I need you so badly." He clearly blushed, slightly embarrassed at the desperation in his voice.

Malcolm threw the sheet aside. "You're beautiful when you beg, love." He shifted between Trip's legs. "But right now, its Malcolm giving you pleasure, not 'sir'."

It took a few moments for Malcolm's endearment to register in Trip's brain. "You...you called me 'love'. I, uh..." he paused, "...I think I like it."

"I could call you other things as well." Malcolm ran a finger over the tip of Trip's leaking cock. "I have quite an extensive vocabulary." 

"I'll just bet you do." Trip rolled them so he was on top. "Ya know, ya called me Trip when I was riding you last night. I didn't realize it until after you'd left," he whispered in Malcolm's ear.

"I didn't," Malcolm stated. "I called you Charles."

"Yes you did, darlin'." Trip nibbled on the lobe, hearing Malcolm's sharp intake of breath. "Hot spot?"

"Oh God yes," Malcolm moaned, partially from the fact that yes, it was a hot spot for him, but mostly because Trip had called him 'darlin'', and didn't mean it in a teasing fashion. 

"You moaned my name, and it turned me on." He kissed his way down Malcolm's face, taking Malcolm's mouth as his own. "My darlin' Mal." His lips trailed a path along Malcolm's neck, down his chest, making it a point to suck each nipple until Malcolm moaned again. Down Malcolm's body he went, kissing, licking, nipping...anything to hear Malcolm make those sounds coming from deep within him. Trip found himself settled between Malcolm's legs. "I wanna suck **your** brains out and turn **you** into a witless moron." His accent came out, and the drawl nearly did Malcolm in...well, that and the mouth that attached itself to his cotton clad erection. "Has anyone ever made love to you, Malcolm?" 

"I'm no blushing virgin," Malcolm half-laughed.

"I know that first hand," Trip nodded, "but what I meant was, has it ever been more than just sex?" Malcolm's silence answered his question. "Can I make love to you, Mal?"

"Don't call me that," the Brit sneered. 

"I'll call you whatever I want." Trip grasped the waistband in his teeth as he had the night before, but ran out of patience and pulled them down with his hands. "And you didn't answer my question."

"I...no."

"No to which, darlin'?" Trip was teasing this time. 

"It's always been sex."

"Well then, I think a little love-making is in order." Trip didn't waste any time, inhaling Malcolm's dick like a starving man. He heard the soft moaning (and decided that Malcolm moaning was the sexiest thing ever) and moved one hand down to fondle his balls. 

Malcolm grabbed his head and pulled it up. "Trip...oh God, you need to stop, please." 

"You didn't like it?" Trip looked at him, wondering if he had done something wrong. "I'm sorry, Malcolm, if I did it wrong, I...."

"You can't do it wrong," Malcolm snickered, pulling Trip atop him and rolled them again so he was now on top. "But I don't intend to come in your mouth."

"I was gonna make ya...."

"Very much so." Malcolm laved one nipple, while his hands roamed Trip's body, pushing him to the edge. He kissed his way down to Trip's cock, hearing moans of pleasure - Trip was totally lost in the feeling. He sucked on the tip, teasing, while at the same time moving his fingers up to Trip's nipples - yes, he'd found **Trip's** hot spot - rubbing and pinching them, with varying force and pressure. 

"Damn, that's good, Malcolm."

Malcolm slid his mouth down the length of Trip's cock, one hand sliding to Trip's ass, rubbing two fingers along the crack. 

"Oh fuck...you better move that mouth, 'cause I swear I'm gonna...." 

"Not yet." Malcolm reached over into his pants pocket and retrieved the tube he had brought. "Much better than hair rinse." He squeezed some lube on his fingers, smoothing it up and down Trip's hardness.

"Malcolm...."

"Equals, Trip, always equals." He rose up to his knees, holding Trip's cock steady with his right hand, his left balancing himself. He sank down slowly, taking Trip's cock inside him, nails raking down Trip's chest. "It feels so good; you feel so good within me."

Trip's breaths were quickening, the sensation so overwhelming that he was beginning to gasp for air. 

"I want you to fuck me, Trip, fuck me hard."

That one four-letter word was the last thing Trip Tucker expected to hear from Malcolm Reed, and it tipped him over the edge. He grasped Malcolm's hips and thrust upward, pounding inside, like a feral animal. Malcolm was murmuring his name over and over and Trip pushed him onto his back, lifting his legs over his shoulders and thrusting inside. 

"Harder, Trip, God, go deeper...oh yes, just like that...."

If Trip could describe pure bliss, this would be it. The tightness of Malcolm's ass around his cock was making him dizzy, and when Malcolm squeezed, Trip screamed his name, coming inside of him.

Malcolm followed, streams of come covering the two of them, forcing himself to not black out. "Trip...oh God...I think...."

"I know, oh yeah, I sure know." Trip began to slide out, but Malcolm stopped him. 

"Slowly or it stings."

Trip did as he was told, and he felt bereft as they were parted. "Thank you."

Malcolm was confused and it showed. "Why are you thanking me?"

"For letting me make love to you."

"You're a bloody sap," Malcolm cracked, a stupid grin on his face.

"A bloody romantic sap," Trip grinned, kissing him. "Just for you." He forced himself up and walked to the bathroom, wetting a cloth and cleaning himself up, bringing another one out and cleaning Malcolm. "I'm glad you came back," he said, tossing the cloth into one of the laundry piles. "Mal...."

"I detest that nickname."

"Mal..." Trip ignored the death glare he received, "...tell me you love me." He purposely didn't phrase it as a question.

"I can't." Malcolm turned his head away and reached for his pants, intent on leaving.

This time Trip was not going to allow that. He reached out, turned Malcolm to face him, framed Malcolm's face with his palms, smiled, repeated, "Tell me you love me," and kissed him. Knowing that Malcolm would try to pull away, Trip threaded his fingers in Malcolm's hair and kept their mouths fused - Malcolm refused to open his mouth, and so far all Trip had tasted in this kiss were Malcolm's closed lips. He finally pulled back in frustration. "Stubborn son-of-a-bitch." Taking in a few breaths, he shoved Malcolm into the chair, swung his right leg over Malcolm's lap and sat there facing him. "We're going to try this again." He smirked, and this time when he pulled Malcolm's mouth to his own, he ground his hips down, the bare flesh of his cock sliding against Malcolm's own.

Malcolm Reed may have been called _the most dangerous man in Starfleet_ , (and he so needed to get revenge on Travis for that - the newspapers had even picked up on it), but right now he was just plain Malcolm. His stoicism was waning, his libido was on overload, and all those emotional walls he had put up over the years were crumbling. His lips slowly parted, his tongue slid out to meet Trip's and for the first time in years Malcolm wanted to allow his heart free reign. 

"You're not the only one that's been hurt in the past." 

Somehow Malcolm knew what was coming.

"You put up walls and you think you built them high enough, that nobody's going to get into your heart."

Malcolm slowly nodded, dreading what he knew the next question would be.

"Who hurt you, Malcolm?" Trip laid a gentle kiss upon Malcolm's neck. "Who hurt you so badly that you won't let anyone in?"

"Too many," Malcolm answered.

"No, you know what I meant." Trip forced his face up. "I need to know."

Malcolm turned his head away. "Please, I...Trip, don't make me tell you."

"God, Mal, it can't be that bad." Trip's heart was wrenching at the pain he felt resonating from his lover.

"I loved him," Malcolm murmured, "and he used that love to...."

" **Tell me** ," Trip reiterated.

"He insisted we hide it," Malcolm began, "that nobody would understand." He tensed up, but then relaxed as Trip began to rub his back. "I was young, Trip, 22, and he was older, more experienced and I was stupid." Malcolm paused and tried to move, but Trip held him tighter.

"I'm not lettin' ya go, darlin'," Trip whispered. "So give it up."

"One," Malcolm said, "I could get loose if I wanted, and two, if you call me 'darlin' again I will do you bodily harm."

"You seemed to like it when we were making love." Trip kissed him chastely. "Maybe you'd prefer honeylamb or snookums?"

"Did you know there are 61 airlocks on this ship that all lead to deep space?"

"Baby?"

"Baby?" Malcolm mimicked, with just a hint of sarcasm. 

"Studmuffin," Trip smirked.

"You have a death wish, don't you Commander?" Malcolm tried to move Trip again. "You're no lightweight," he grunted when Trip stood, standing himself and walking to the window, staring outside. He knew Trip wasn't going to let him off the hook, so he continued. "I let him talk me into a few...slightly illegal...operations, and when the proverbial shit hit the fan, I was left to fend for myself. Oh, he got me off the hook, but not before he had me convinced it was entirely my fault. That's also how I came to the attentions of Harris and the beginnings of Section 31." Malcolm shrugged. "He somehow got the idea that I would be good at dirty work."

"And from what you've told me about that, you did it well." Trip walked over to the closet and took out a bottle, finding two clean glasses, pouring them each a shot. "Drink." Trip swallowed and watched Malcolm sniff at the glass, the Brit knitting his brows in confusion; he chuckled as Malcolm did the shot and nearly choked as he realized what the smell was.

"There's kerosene in there!"

"Yep, sure is," Trip drawled, pouring them another. "I am the stereotypical Southern boy and that there is my Granddaddy Tucker's brew. It's been passed down a dozen generations."

"Moonshine is illegal," Malcolm pointed out, draining his second.

"Not where I'm from," Trip snickered, putting the empty glasses on the desk. He stood behind Malcolm, slid his arms around Malcolm's waist and rested his chin on Malcolm's shoulder. "It's okay to tell me, Mal."

Malcolm resigned himself to the fact that he had to finish. "I wanted to be loved, nobody had ever...for five years I let him do what he wanted to me, afraid he would leave me, but then it became too much and I couldn't live like that anymore, so I broke it off. He wasn't too happy but agreed. Ten years later he came back into my life, I turned him down and he destroyed my career." 

"Geez, Malcolm, I'm sorry." Trip's voice was outwardly soothing, but inwardly he was angered. He may have not had the specifics of the incident as of yet, but he would. And whatever occurred in Malcolm's past was no longer going to affect his future, not if Trip had anything to say about it. He turned Malcolm to face him. "Let's try this one final time." Trip smiled shyly. "Tell me you love me, Malcolm Reed."

Malcolm pulled away from Trip, found his boxers and picked them up.

"You're leaving again?" Trip asked, both hurt and confused. Had he pushed Malcolm too hard? Had he pushed the man away by dredging up painful memories?

"I don't like to sleep naked," Malcolm explained.

Trip took the boxers from Malcolm's hand. "Could you try it with me?" He led Malcolm to the mattress, the two dropping upon it, facing each other. Malcolm turned away, which confused Trip again, until Malcolm took Trip's arm and held it around himself, cuddling close.

"I love you, Trip," Malcolm whispered. "I don't have a clue as to how long I've felt this way. I didn't want...I was...." He inhaled sharply. "I was afraid."

"I know, Malcolm." Trip held onto him. "But I won't ever hurt you or allow you to be hurt."

"I'm not a damsel in distress, you know," Malcolm told him. "I can take care of myself."

"As Enterprise's security and tactical officer, yes, you can, **and** take care of me, the rest of the crew and whoever else needs it." Trip placed a soft kiss to the back of his neck. "But in matters of the heart, I have elected myself your protector."

"Tomorrow," Malcolm whispered, "tomorrow I'll tell you the rest, because I know you won't leave it alone until you know everything. I just hope you won't go when you know it all." 

"Never, Mal." Trip held tighter. "I've been looking for you my whole life."

"Thank you." Malcolm's breathing deepened and he sunk into Trip's arms, allowing himself a totally peaceful sleep for the first time in years.

'I'm going to make everything right, Malcolm,' Trip silently swore to himself. 'Even if I have to destroy my own career in the process.'

**~~~~~~~~**

Malcolm woke to an empty bed, wondering where Trip had gone to. He really didn't want to move, but one whiff of his body and he forced himself up and into a shower. When he came out, fully awake, he saw the note taped to the mirror....

_Good morning, Mal. (And yeah, I'm calling you Mal if I like.)_

_I didn't have the heart to wake you, because you looked so peaceful. Come to the mess for a special surprise._

_Oh, and I hate to repeat myself, but in your case I'll make an exception._

_I love you._

_Trip_

"I wonder which one of us is the bigger sap," Malcolm chuckled. 

**~~~~~~~~**

Trip was waiting for Malcolm and the moment he entered, the engineer disappeared into the galley, coming out and almost skipping across the mess hall with a tray. 

"I'll have whatever he's on," Travis snickered. 

"Me too," Hoshi added.

"Sorry, Ensign's," Trip shook his head, "I can't share this." He walked past them to where Malcolm was seated, drinking a cup of tea and immersed in a PADD. "Breakfast is served, mon amour."

Malcolm promptly choked on his tea and stared up as if Trip was insane. 

"I thought that was right; did I say it wrong?" Trip turned to Hoshi. "Mon amour is right, isn't it?"

It took the linguist a moment to react. "Er, I guess, if you were trying to say...."

"Yep, I sure was!" Trip put the tray in front of Malcolm. "I made this up special for you, with my own two hands."

Malcolm looked truly mortified, and both Hoshi and Travis walked over to see what was on the tray.

"Aww," Hoshi couldn't help the sigh, "pancakes with a whipped cream heart. That's so romantic."

"I'll be happy to make that for you," Travis piped up.

"Travis," Hoshi shook her head, "I've tasted your cooking. I'd rather eat sawdust."

"Be nice, Ensign Sato," Travis narrowed his eyes, "and maybe I'll share my stash of Twinkies."

"What am I missing?" Jon seemed to appear out of nowhere, T'Pol at his side. "Nice work, Trip."

"I do not understand the significance of it." T'Pol was confused. 

"It has to do with human mating rituals." Phlox took her by the arm and sat down at the next table. "People who are in love make special treats to show affection."

Malcolm still hadn't said a word, staring from one person to another. He finally pushed the tray aside, stood up and fled the mess, spilling a tray of food on a MACO. The latter opened his mouth to say something, took one look at Malcolm's face and shut it quickly - he did not want to face the wrath of his superior.

"What'd I do?" Trip scratched his head; he couldn't figure it out. "I told him I loved him last night, he reciprocated, and I figured this would be perfect to show him how much I care about him." 

"Perhaps it's because despite your newfound relationship, and I am assuming there is one, Lieutenant Reed is still a private man," Phlox suggested. 

Trip swallowed hard and looked at Jon. "I didn't screw up, did I?"

"Not if you go after him," the Captain replied.

"Yeah," Trip nodded, "I'll do that." He ran after Malcolm, knocking the same MACO off his feet. "Go scrub grout with Hayes!" He snapped.

"Yes sir," the man whimpered, deciding he would eat all his meals in his quarters from now on.

**~~~~~~~~**

Trip located Malcolm in the armory, in his office. 

Malcolm was sitting there, lips pursed, going over a PADD, not lifting his eyes. 

"I'm sorry, Malcolm," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to embarrass you."

"It's not that." Malcolm's voice was very quiet and Trip shut the door, tapping in his security code and locking anybody else out. 

"Then what is it? Tell me, please." Trip knelt down, forcing Malcolm to look at him. He had an idea of what had caused the reaction, but he needed Malcolm to tell him. "Mal, what did he do to you?"

"He made me breakfast one morning, but I wasn't hungry and he...." Malcolm's breath hitched. "I needed six stitches."

"He hit you? Malcolm, how could you let him do that?" The moment the words were out of his mouth, Trip knew they were the wrong ones to say. 

"BECAUSE I WAS WEAK!" Malcolm was clearly disgusted with himself. 

"Wanting to be loved doesn't make you weak," Trip explained calmly. "You were 22 years old, just a kid. And from what you've told me about your upbringing, which isn't much by the way, you never had any love in your life. I figure you didn't know what love **really** was and he took advantage of that." He smiled softly. "Who is he, Malcolm?"

"No." Malcolm pushed him away and stood up. "I can't tell you; I won't."

Trip got to his feet. "You told me he destroyed your career; he's the reason you're still a Lieutenant, isn't it?"

"You're asking a question you already know the answer to," Malcolm replied.

Trip nodded knowingly. "I already know who he is."

"Trip, please don't do anything about it. I don't require you to get involved."

"You don't require...." Trip was getting a bit angry. "You deserve to be a full Commander!"

"And if you attempt to do anything, Leonard will do the same to you!"

"Leonard." Trip nodded again. "Admiral Philip Leonard."

"You didn't know, did you?" Malcolm's eyes grew wide. "You tricked me into telling you, you bastard!" He lashed out and punched Trip in the face, knocking him flat.

Trip sat up, tasting the blood in his mouth. "You've got a mean right hook and I think you loosened one of my teeth." He began to stand up. Malcolm lunged at him and he ran to the other side of the desk. "I'm sorry, Mal, I really am."

"Not as sorry as you're going to be." Malcolm rounded the desk and so did Trip, so they remained on opposite sides. 

"As lovers, Malcolm, we can have secrets, but only to a limited extent."

"I'll give you a limited extent!" 

The two began a dance around the desk, which caused Trip to start laughing after a few minutes.

"What's so funny?"

"You." Trip laughed harder. "If you really wanted to hurt me, I'd be on my way to Phlox right about now...on a stretcher."

Malcolm sat down. "Actually, I think you'd be in traction."

Trip leaned against the side of the desk, taking Malcolm's hands in his. "Leonard can demote me to crewman or drum me right out of Starfleet and I wouldn't give a damn." 

"Yes you would, Trip."

"No, Malcolm, I wouldn't. Because no matter what my rank, or whether or not I'm a member of Starfleet, I still have you." He slid into Malcolm's lap. "I love you, remember?"

"You wouldn't if you were mopping floors on the lunar colony courtesy of me."

Trip leaned in. "I wonder how long it's going to take us to work through your relationship issues?" Malcolm opened his mouth, but Trip placed a finger over his lips. "That was a rhetorical question." He took a breath. "Am I forgiven?"

"No."

"Still love me?"

"No."

Trip blew in his ear, tonguing the lobe. 

"Stop that," Malcolm said. "I'm trying to remain angry with you."

"Trying and failing miserably." Trip rained kisses down Malcolm's face, nuzzling his neck. "Still love me?"

Malcolm stole a glance at the door.

"I locked it and the only person who can override my code is in here with me." Trip brought his mouth crashing down upon Malcolm's, pulling back when the need for air became too great. Resting his forehead against Malcolm's, Trip was very serious. "Please tell me you forgive me, Mal."

"I can't," Malcolm replied honestly. "Not yet anyway."

Trip nodded in understanding and began to get up, but found himself pulled back down into Malcolm's lap.

"But for some strange and inexplicable reason," Malcolm rested his head upon Trip's shoulder, "I still love you," he paused, "even though I know you are going to do something completely and utterly asinine when we return home."

"Malcolm, now that I know the who and the why...."

"I know - you want the what, where and when."

"Are you ready to tell me?"

"I don't have a choice, do I, Trip?"

"Nope."

"All right," Malcolm reluctantly agreed.

"And after you tell me," Trip smirked, "you can bend me over your desk and fuck me stupid...sir."

"And spank your ass red and raw...Charles," Malcolm murmured.

Trip could have sworn he heard wrong. "What was that?"

"You heard me."

"Yeah, right...."

**~~~~~~~~**

A few hours later Trip was sitting in the ready room again, going over some new specs with Jon.

"Something the matter, Commander?" Jon eyed Trip suspiciously; the engineer was shifting in his chair, looking uncomfortable. 

"No," Trip squeaked as he shifted position again. "Can I stand, Captain?"

The Captain felt his lips twitching. "Trip, did something, er, happen, between you and Malcolm earlier?"

"Uh, we made up."

"Other than that."

"He gave me a spanking!" Trip told him, turning a bright shade of red. "Said I deserved it!"

"Ah, I see." Jon began to giggle. "You were a bad boy."

"Keep it up, **Johnny** , and I tell the crew what happened eight years ago in New Orleans."

"You wouldn't dare." Jon glared at him.

"Sure I would," Trip shot back. "Then everybody will know about the twin redheads, the handcuffs, the blindfold, chocolate syrup, dildo and loofah." He narrowed his eyes. "And the bed that crashed through the floor into the middle of that nice restaurant."

"Nobody would believe you," Jon nodded vehemently. 

"I have pictures." Trip grinned maliciously. "And they may just end up attached to the ship's emails."

"You can stand."

"Thank you."

**~~~~~~~~**

One month, 2 weeks and 4 days after that, the Enterprise returned to Earth for a refit. 

The command staff was called into a debriefing, save for Malcolm, who was supervising the upgrade to a new weapons system of his own design. The meeting was going well, until Admiral Leonard joined them.

"Captain," Trip said softly, "your chief engineer is about to become an Ensign again." That said, he stood up, walked over to Admiral Leonard, pulled him out of his chair and punched him in the jaw, knocking him over the desk. "That's for what you did to Malcolm Reed." Trip then lifted him by the collar, hauled him to his feet and threw another punch, hearing the crack, knowing he'd broken the Admiral's nose. "And that was from me." He faced the others in the room, said, "I feel much better now," and casually strolled out of the conference room.

**~~~~~~~~**

Two hours later Admiral Forrest walked into Archer's apartment, finding him and Trip there. "Admiral Leonard is not pressing charges," he explained, "and he has quietly handed in his resignation." He faced Trip, having known the young man for a long time. "Trip," he began, letting him know this was 'off the record,' "would you care to explain it to me?"

"Malcolm Reed should have been a Commander by now," Trip sneered. "What happened seven years ago was Leonard's doing, and Malcolm took the blame for...personal reasons."

"The explosion on Jupiter Station?"

"That bastard set him up and if Malcolm hadn't taken the fall, Leonard would have seen to it that he'd have been court martialed."

"Because he and Lieutenant Reed had a relationship at one time?" Forrest asked. At the stares he received from Jon and Trip, the Admiral laughed. "I didn't get to my rank by being blind, stupid or ignorant."

"Yeah? Well as it was, he made sure Malcolm didn't get a promotion for all these years and it's not fair!" Trip was fuming all over again. "All Malcolm did was break up with him, nothing more, and the damn fucker couldn't deal with it!" Trip took a breath, trying to calm down. "Leonard rigged that explosion in revenge and everything pointed to Malcolm. If Malcolm had come forward, he'd have outed himself and Leonard and he couldn't do that."

Forrest opened his mouth, then shut it, then opened it again, slowly forming the words. "Are you saying Lieutenant Reed wasn't at fault?"

"Yes sir," Trip said without hesitation. "As I said, he should have been a full Commander by now, but Leonard shot down every promotion that came through for him." He thought about something Malcolm had said. "And you can demote me and have me mopping floors on the lunar colony, I don't care."

"Can I safely assume," Forrest fought another laugh, "that you and Lieutenant Reed are...together?"

"Yes sir!" Trip stated. "And if you demote me, then you might as well demote him further, because if one of us isn't going back out with Enterprise, neither of us is."

"And may I ask," The Admiral continued, "if my wedding invitation got lost?"

Jon and Trip both gaped at him. 

"I'll take that as a no. But when you decide on a date, make sure I am notified. I like to know when my people are getting married; I love weddings."

"That's so he can get free booze," Jon muttered.

"What was that, Captain?!" The Admiral barked.

"I need a wee snooze?" Jon squeaked. 

"That's what I thought you said," Forrest chuckled. His attentions returned to Trip, and he was now back in _officer mode_. "No matter what the outcome, Commander, the incident will appear on your permanent record; even I have no say over that."

Trip snorted. "I really don't give a flying...."

"TRIP!" Jon shouted.

Trip nodded. "I understand, sir."

"On a personal note," Forrest smiled, "are you happy, Trip?"

"Yes sir, I am."

"Then nothing else matters." The Admiral stood up, shaking both their hands. "I'm going to take care of a few things at Starfleet, make sure Lieutenant Reed's record is expunged. I **will** set things right, I promise you." He took a breath. "Now, onto more important things - will I see you both this evening for poker night?"

"I have to decline," Trip replied, "because if I don't return to Enterprise, Malcolm will work until he collapses. And I have us booked on a flight to Florida, because if my Mama and Daddy don't meet him, they're going to disown me."

"Likewise," Jon added. "Mama Tucker has advised me, in no uncertain terms, that if I don't tag along, I too will be disowned."

"Then I will see you both after your shore leave, before Enterprise departs." Forrest left, feeling good. He'd never been overly fond of Leonard, but he'd never known why - now he knew. The man was a scumbag.

"So, Jon, my Ma said she's going to disown you if you don't come visit?" Trip chuckled. 

"Not exactly," Jon paled. "If I don't show, she's going to cut an old-fashioned switch and beat my ass."

"She'll do it too."

"I know. Now, you go and collect Malcolm, and I will meet you at the transport in a few hours."

**~~~~~~~~**

Two weeks later Enterprise was ready to return to deep space. 

Trip was walking on air - his parents had loved Malcolm and unofficially adopted him as a Tucker.

It had taken Malcolm two days to recover from a major hangover, the result of trying different kinds of 'brew' that Trip's Grandfather had concocted. He had also contacted his parents regarding his relationship with Trip, and needless to say, his 'stiff-upper-lipped' parents didn't take it too well.

The three men had to calm Trip's mother down after she heard the conversation Malcolm had with them; she was prepared to fly to England and beat the shit out of Stuart and Mary Reed. 

But now they were back home, with one small change to their living arrangements - Trip and Malcolm were openly sharing quarters.

Malcolm had been nervous as to how the crew would react, but quickly found that his fears were unfounded. 

Nobody gave a crap.

Trip had made it a point to procure them a proper bed, sans a bunk, because neither wanted to suffer a concussion.

And life went on....

**~~~~~~~~**

"All right," Jon began, sitting with his senior staff, "we have 27 new crew members, all of whom have to assimilate living aboard Enterprise." He faced them one by one.

First was Hoshi, who received a glare. "Ensign Sato, please do not teach them any phrases to use with various species unless they are accurate. I do not need 27 people thinking they are telling the Andorian's that they are members of Starfleet, when in reality they are actually stating that they are not wearing any underwear. Although Shran found it amusing, others of his race may not." 

He then faced Travis. "Mister Mayweather, taking new crew members into a shuttle pod, shutting off the gravity fields and doing loop-de-loops is forbidden. If it happens in the future, you will clean up any mess they make when their stomach's give out."

Phlox was next. "Infelian bloodworms are not required eating to protect against various space-borne infections. I have advised Chef of the same and told him he is not to serve them because 'the Doctor said so'."

Then came Hayes. "MACO's are not to intimidate anyone into giving up their desserts in the mess hall. And nobody is to be thrown in the brig for refusing to give up their front row seats at movie night."

Even T'Pol got hers. "You may not use that Vulcan neck-pinch thingy on personnel who say you have a 'nice bum'."

Then Trip. "New crew who make a remark that 'the guy that's in charge of the armory is cute and has an adorable accent' will not be strung up and left dangling above the Warp Core. I've had six transfer requests in the last 4 days to **any** other department available, including the galley."

Malcolm was last. "On a similar note, Commander Reed, if a crewmember states that they would like to 'play footsie with the Southern gentleman in engineering' they will not, and I repeat **NOT** , be forced into a spacesuit and stand out on the hull while you sing 'I'm Henry the Eighth, I Am' 20 plus times. Besides the fact that putting them out there is cruel in itself," Jon bit his lip to stave off his laughter, "you're tone deaf." He turned and stared daggers at Trip, knowing whose idea **that** had been, then focused back on Malcolm. "Is that understood, Commander?"

"Understood, sir, but..." Malcolm stared at him, very confused, "...it's Lieutenant."

"Hmmm." The Captain picked up a PADD. "Not according to this notification from Starfleet Command. It refers to you as Commander Reed."

"Er...it's a mistake, sir," Malcolm insisted.

Jon handed the PADD to Malcolm. "The notification comes from Admiral Forrest, but if you think it's an error, I'll contact him and let him know."

Malcolm read the PADD, not noticing the glances the rest of the command staff were sharing, nor their grins. He blinked a few times and read it again. "This says...it states...."

Trip took it from him and read aloud, _"Per General Order 15..._ blah, blah, blah... _promotion regulations outlined in the Starfleet Charter_...etcetera, etcetera... _Malcolm Reed is hereby promoted to the rank of full Commander."_ He handed it back to Malcolm. "Looks legit to me."

"I...." Malcolm's mouth dropped open.

Jon smiled. "We, more than any others, are well aware of how much you detest being the center of attention...Commander. Therefore I thought that somewhere private was the best place to tell you about your promotion."

"I don't know what to say," Malcolm said.

"Say 'thank you, Captain and I accept the promotion', ya dork!" Trip snapped.

Malcolm turned to him. "What's a dork?"

"Malcolm...." Trip was grinding his teeth.

"Oh, yes, of course." Malcolm turned back to Jon. "Thank you Captain, and I accept the promotion." He stood up. "Now, if you will excuse me, since I stated I would continue to obey rules and regs, I shall go retrieve Lieutenant Mas from the hull." He clearly muttered, "And it was Commander Tucker that corrupted me," on his way out.

"I knew that," Jon mumbled under his breath.

"And I," Trip shrugged, "have to go and untie Ensign Taylor." He sighed. "And I also know that Rostov's going to complain that I'm taking away the fun times in engineering."

The two fled together.

"I think you have a nice bum," Hoshi told T'Pol. "And could you teach me the neck pinch?"

"I would be happy to," T'Pol nodded, "and thank you."

"Are they tasty?" Hayes asked Phlox. 

"I think so. Why, Major?"

"I like to eat, and anything has to be more appetizing than my Mom's cooking."

Travis was the last to exit, singing, "Here we go loop-de-loop, here we go loop-de-la...."

Archer stared after them, wondering if his command staff was mentally sound and decided that yes, they were...maybe...sort of...a little bit...well, at least they were five years before. But he decided that as long as they did their jobs and performed their duties as they were supposed to, he really didn't care.

**~~~~~~~~**

"Did you really string up Ensign Taylor above the core?" Malcolm unzipped Trip's uniform, pulling it down to his waist.

"I sure did, and Rostov helped me." Trip smiled, unzipping Malcolm's. "Taylor told me that **you** had a nice bum."

Malcolm turned his head and looked in the mirror. "I don't think it's anything special."

"I think it is," Trip licked his lips, "and it's all mine." He pushed Malcolm onto the bed and pulled off his boots. "And have I told you lately just how much I enjoy undressing you?"

"No, you haven't," Malcolm pouted, lifting up as Trip pulled his uniform off. 

"Well, I do." Trip sat down and pulled off his shoes, finding himself flat on his back as Malcolm stripped him. "And I spent an hour with Lieutenant Phipps...." He paused for effect, smirking as Malcolm frowned. "Relax, darlin'. She's working on a redesign of Starfleet uniforms. I gave her a couple of ideas."

Malcolm narrowed his eyes, laying down and facing Trip. "What kinds of ideas?" 

Trip kissed him chastely. "I just love to get under your skin," he laughed. "She's working on a two piece uniform - black pants, with boots, but the shirt colors will designate our respective departments."

"I will not, under any circumstances, wear a red shirt," Malcolm stated firmly. 

"Why not?"

"Read some 20th century science fiction literature and you'll find out." Malcolm huffed. "Besides, I think we'd both look terrible in red." 

"Maybe," Trip leered at him, "but it sure would make undressing quicker. And what exactly did Mas say that got him sent to the hull?"

"He asked me if you liked the company of men."

"That's it?"

"That was enough, Trip, actually more than enough."

"Wait'll you see what Phipps has in mind for the female crew - a one piece dress above the knees, which will be in one color."

Malcolm plastered himself over Trip, placing soft kisses to his neck, finding one spot to suck on, which he did, pulling back when he left a dark purple bruise. "There, I feel much better now."

"Mal, did you just give me a hickey?"

"As a matter of fact I did." Malcolm lifted his head, studying Trip's face. "Does it bother you?"

"Nope, not at all; I kinda like the idea of you marking me." Trip wrapped his legs around Malcolm's and rolled them so he was on top. "Can I mark you?"

Malcolm flushed a pale shade of pink and averted Trip's eyes.

"It's okay, Mal." Trip stole a kiss. "I know you belong to me."

"You're not put off?"

"Damn, Malcolm, we have **got** to work on these issues of yours." 

"Still love me?" Malcolm teased.

"No." Trip laughed. 

"Commander Tucker, since you no longer love me, I'm afraid I won't be able to share the package of _Banana Kreamies_ I picked up in Los Angeles."

Trip's eyes grew wide. " _Banana Kreamies_?"

"And I guess I'll give the box of _Butterscotch Krimpets_ to Travis."

"How did you know?" Trip asked.

"Your Mother was quite forthcoming with many things about you." Malcolm gave him a knowing grin. "I managed to locate a case of Ben and Jerry's _Cherry Garcia_." 

"I love you again." Trip kissed him and got out of bed, getting dressed. 

"Where are you going?"

"Mal, it's _Cherry Garcia_!" Trip nearly stumbled as he pulled his pants on. "Do you know how hard it is to get a hold of that?"

"I have contacts in many places." Malcolm got out of bed himself and gathered his clothing. "So the ice cream comes before me?"

Trip paused, staring down at his now-clothed body. "Er, I...no, but...um...."

"I'm just teasing you." Malcolm leaned in. "We'll bring a pint back here. I know interesting ways of how we can consume it."

"I just bet ya do, ya perv."

Malcolm gave him a tonsil-sucking kiss and then got dressed. "I also obtained a can of something called _Reddi-Whip_."

Trip stopped dead in his tracks, his mouth dropping open.

"Maraschino cherries, too."

Trip whimpered.

Malcolm opened the door and noticed Trip hadn't moved. "Something the matter?"

Trip shook his head in silence.

"Perhaps you should wait here and I'll go to the galley and get everything."

"Okay," Trip squeaked, walking back to the bed and sitting down.

"I'll be back in a few minutes." Malcolm left with a full-blown smirk on his face and walked to the turbolift with one thought on his mind....

'He's going to have a cardiac arrest when he sees the jar of hot fudge sauce.'

**FIN**


End file.
